The Perfect Sorrow
by embracing-shadows
Summary: So many tears, but there is only one that captivates him, only one that saves him.


Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

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There were tears, a lot of them. He found it was easier to deal with them if he categorized them, and so he began sorting different tears in to different files in his headspace. There were the large fat droplet tears that came during the flood times, when his mother would have another breakdown at seeing him how he was, still so long after what happened. There were the gathering line tears that stood in his father's eyes but never fell, held back by barriers that had taken years to build up. There were the steady flowing tears that left trails in dark makeup as Catherine reached out to touch his hair, snatching her hand back time and time again when he flinched at her touch. There were the dry unspoken tears that he could see in Sara and Grissom and Warrick, all of them trying to be strong while they told him everything would be ok. But there was one kind of tear that Nick would never forget, would never have guessed would mean this much to him.

They were the silent slow small tears that occasionally escaped the control of Greg as he stood quietly against the wall, looking as forgotten as he was obviously feeling. But Greg made no move to intrude, no move to assert his right to stand by Nick's side. Instead he allowed the people who felt they were closer with the recently rescued Texan to gather closest to him and he let himself become a wallflower. Nick could see him though, and he could see those tiny little crystals falling from his eyes, always creating dark spots on his jeans as they dropped from his eyes, gravity taking them before they could roll down the cheeks of his bowed head. It made Nick feel better because when Greg raised his head and met the older man's eyes, there was no evidence on his face of those tears, nor of the pity Nick could see in everyone else. There was only sorrow, and a promise that he would be closer later, although why Nick felt that he was being promised this he didn't know.

It wasn't until later, so long after and still so damaged, that he understood that the promise really had been there. His house was empty and it seemed to echo with his every uneasy breath. His skin was healed and there were no scars – on the outside. On the inside he could not sit still, could barely close his eyes. He had been home a single week when Greg had shown up with no explanation and no apology, and he simply hadn't left. He had set up a permanent residence on the couch, occasionally on a small air mattress in Nick's spare room, and he seemed to fill all the empty spaces in the home. Suddenly Nick found that he had no spare moments in which to remember, because his time was taken up with long walks filled with good conversation, and loud video game tournaments that Greg often let him win, and even adventures in the kitchen trying to make sense out of second hand cook book recipes. He found no echoes because there was always music or laughter or talk in the air, and when there was none of those three there was Greg's warm self sitting close by should he require its comfort.

The first time he really slept, he had a nightmare. He woke to Greg's hand wrapped in his, but the younger man made no other movement. In fact, he wasn't even facing Nick, as if knowing that the Texan would not want to be watched in his weakest hour. Nick squeezed the hand back and didn't say anything for quite some time as he tried to capture the control of his breathing, then he murmured that he was ok. When Greg looked up he looked normal, and he whispered that he would come back if he was needed. Then he had stood up and Nick saw the dark little spots on his jeans where the small quiet tears had fallen, and he felt so glad that it was Greg here, Greg who knew that he didn't want the pity or the fussing. Greg, who had been through his own trauma, and knew just how to handle him. And every time after that when Greg would wake him from his nightmares, those spots would always be there. But Nick would never see him crying, and he began wondering after a while why he was trying to hide it.

The first time Nick had found an ant in his home, it had taken Greg all of five seconds to respond to his irrational panicking, and all of two more seconds to kill the offending insect. Then he had held Nick tightly without words and without the annoying paternal hair stroking that everyone else seemed to think was assuring. Nick found it only condescending, like a pat on the head. And he had been ready for Greg to think of him as weak and tell him to just grow up and be a man, but Greg had only looked him in the eye and smiled, "I still can't light matches". It had made him feel better too, until Greg went away and Nick had looked down at himself. His shirt was littered with little wets spots, where Greg had bowed his head and hidden his tears so he could be just what Nick needed in that moment. Nick had stood in the same spot for fifteen minutes and wondered about it all, how Greg seemed to just know everything about what he needed.

The first time Nick had fallen in the dirt, stumbled on a dirt road, he was relieved that it was only Greg there to watch him freak out. The feel of the earth against his palms and the scent of it and the sight of it hard packed together, like against a glass wall, had sent him in to a fit. Greg had gathered him up and made him stand. Together they had stumbled over to a patch of grass, where Greg made him lie down on his stomach and feel the blades of nature against his skin. To feel that he was alive. Then Greg had put a hand on his back and he had not moved for hours, just sat still and waited. When Nick opened his eyes, he could see the tiny spots on the jean-clad legs folded beside him, but he didn't raise his eyes when he saw yet another one appear. Just closed his eyes again and waited for his mind to come to terms with the fact that nature would be all around him for the rest of his life, and he could not afford to be afraid of the dirt. Greg said nothing, just waited as he kneeled beside him. When they had finally gotten up, his knees cracked loudly, but neither one of them mentioned it.

But tonight was the first time Nick had woken in a panic to find himself alone. He frantically groped in to the semi darkness, but found no hand to hold on to. For some reason the absence of Greg worried him more than the absence of comfort, and he immediately got out of his bed. An oversized sweater was hanging off the back of his door and he donned it quickly, hurrying out to the living room with his arms wrapped around his torso. Greg was not on the couch, so he rushed to the spare bedroom. It was empty too, and Nick's nightmare was fading away in his concern for where his friend could be. It was not until he felt a cold draft that he looked down the hall to find that his back door was open, and that worried him more because he checked his locks three times every night now before going to bed. Moving in that direction, Nick could feel fear rise up in his belly and threaten to choke the breath from him, but he pressed on anyway, tightening his own arms around himself.

And there was Greg, sitting on the back porch, crying a whole new kind of tear. It was a tear that Nick had never seen before, so he had no file for it to go in to. It was the tear of a real and true sorrow, a pain that could not be borne. They flowed out of all sides and corners of Greg's eyes as he hugged himself and lifted his face to the sky, and it made his whole face shine wetly. He was choking on the ragged sounds tearing from his own throat, and the sobs he couldn't keep down were rocking him violently. Nick crept forward and placed a hand on Greg's shoulder, and the younger man met his eyes only briefly before he curled in on himself and cried harder. Having no idea what else to do, Nick sat down next to him and leaned over to press their sides together, dropping his head on Greg's shoulder. They sat like that for what felt like forever, until Greg finally was able to breathe again and he raised the hem of his shirt to wipe away the evidence of his tears from his face. The edge came away soaked, but when he raised his face there were no traces, and Nick marveled at that.

"Why?" he found himself asking, and Greg bowed his head. Moments later there were rapidly appearing small dots on his jeans, and Nick knew that he was hiding again. "Why do you hide?" Greg choked a little, but he answered, something Nick appreciated.

"Why you? You didn't deserve this. You don't deserve to be so lost, and I know you're lost and damn it Nick I wish I could just find you again!" Nick blinked but when Greg looked up and those tiny little crystal tears began to decorate Greg's face, he held the eye contact, realizing he may never get the chance to see this sight ever again. It was, in a word, beautiful. "I wish I could just show you who you used to be and just make everything all better but I can't. I can't do anything Nick and I feel so helpless, like I'm doing no good at all. But who else do you have? They don't know, Nick, none of them _know_!" Greg was standing; he was standing and stepping down off the porch stairs. When he turned he was still eye level with Nick, so he kneeled on the stair below and reached forward to press their foreheads together.

"I can't stand to sit and watch you try to find yourself. I've been trying to find a path to show you, something to give you direction, but I can't find anything Nick. I'm sorry." They were still holding the gaze unbroken, and Nick found it hard to take in air. He leaned forward eagerly, making their noses touch and flatten against each other. He relished the contact, somehow feeling more alive when they were connected.

"How did you do it?" Nick found that he could produce no more than a whisper, because he had always wondered this before, but never asked. And he had lain awake holding Greg's hand and wondered this, knowing that the blonde had been alone in his time of need. Greg gasped a tiny little gasp that Nick didn't understand, but he soon figured out it was a gasp full of conflicting confusing emotions, and he knew how that felt. It took a while for the answer to come, so he reached up and he caught one of the falling tears, wondering if there was possibly any camera in the world good enough to capture the pure, perfect beauty of this tiny little droplet that had fallen from the eye of his friend.

"I had to come back, you see, to be with you." He looked away from the tear and back up to the eyes it had fallen from, afraid to believe what that might mean. Greg, thankfully, continued. "Because no matter where or when, no matter what's happened, I always feel better when I'm standing next to you. And since you wouldn't come to me, I had to go to you. In order to feel better, I had to get better. I know it makes no sense, but I made it through because of you, even if you never knew it. You are my strength Nick, and I've been trying so hard to find someone to be yours. I'm sorry." Sorry that he hadn't found one yet. Except that he had, just now. Nick smiled as he brought both hands up to cup Greg's face and he closed his eyes, a feeling of calm rushing through his body that he hadn't felt since before everything had happened. Then he opened his eyes again.

Then he decided that nothing needed to be said, so he tilted his head and moved forward again, lightly pushing their lips together until the pressure felt like the most exquisite spark of life he had ever tasted before. Greg responded with a desperate fervor that he knew meant Greg thought he would rethink this and that they might never get a second chance for this moment. With that in mind, he deliberately stopped the kiss and looked Greg in the eye as he paused before swooping in for a second one.

"You will always be my someone," he whispered, soft lips moving against his own in a small sigh of content. After that, Nick found it easy to know why Greg hid his tears. But he also found it easy to spot those tears, and he promised them both that someday he would make them all go away. And he did.


End file.
